


Alsanum

by Lobo_Loca



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (Only light angst I promise), Bickering, Coran's Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grieving, Humor, Team as Family, Voltron General Big Bang 2017, altean culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lobo_Loca/pseuds/Lobo_Loca
Summary: [“Alsanum?” Lance asked. “What’s that?”“Our biggest festival, which  celebrates the lights the goddess Alma bestowed upon the first Alteans. Five nights of lights, food, and games to remind us of the gifts we’ve been given,” explained Coran.]In need of a break from the war against the Galra, Coran suggests reviving a traditional Altean light festival. The Paladins team up with Coran to put on the festival, and decide to surprised Allura while they're at it.





	Alsanum

**Author's Note:**

> [Art by the wonderful silver-yuka](http://silver-yuka.tumblr.com/post/164183493733/art-for-the-voltron-general-bang-i-got-paired)
> 
> Glossary of terms available in the end notes.

“Do you ever get tired of fighting, Coran?” Lance asked, sitting on the floor with hands hanging between his knees beside Coran and staring out of the command center windows.

Coran hummed. “Often, even before the odds seemed so slim, and just about everyone I knew in the Altean forces grew tired at one point or another, to varying extents. Few people truly want to fight for long periods, I’ve found, so much as they feel they need to fight.”

“Like with the Galra,” said Lance. “None of us--not even Shiro, and maybe even _especially_ not Shiro--want to fight them: We just want to protect people. We want to stop more people from getting hurt. And we can’t do that without fighting, but it’s exhausting.”

“What we could really use is a reminder of what we’re fighting for, like Alsanum,” Coran said wistfully.

“Alsanum?” Lance inquired, leaning toward Coran a little. “What’s that?”

“Our biggest festival, which runs for five nights ending on the spring equinox and celebrates the lights our mother goddess Alma bestowed upon the first Alteans. Five nights of lights, food, and games to remind us of the gifts we’ve been given,” explained Coran.

Lance hummed and turned to stare out at the cold void of space. “Y’know, we could try recreating it. Not right now obviously, but maybe when the Altean equinox comes around. Or, well, _would_ ’ve come around I guess.”

“I don’t know,” Coran said quietly. “Some parts of the festivals I’ve done with my family for nearly a century, but most of the food and decorations were made with materials found only on Altea. Mostly purchased from vendors as well.”

“Hunk’ll be more than willing to try and recreate the recipes, and I’m sure everyone else will be  willing to help figure out decorations and stuff. Not like we’re strangers to trial and error.”

Coran chuckled. “I would say you all  thrive on improvisation.”

“We have this  saying on Earth that describes the phenomenon pretty well,” Lance intoned seriously. “Fake it ‘til you make it.”

~

Coran sat on the edge of his bunk, staring at the floor panels and trying to remember how many years it had been since he had celebrated Alsanum beyond absent well wishes and receiving pictures and videos from his family. Too long, really. Even before the centuries he’d spent in cyrosleep were taken into account. It had been years since he donned festival clothes and walked along the food and game stalls and took a few days to bask in the light Alma had blessed them with.

It was too late to spend that time with his family on Altea, but here, now, with the Paladins and Allura, Coran had a choice between fighting the good fight with every ounce of his strength until it ran dry, or taking a moment to lay in a sun patch and _live_.

Which, really, wasn’t much of a choice at all.

“Alrightie then, here we go,” Coran murmured to himself , opening the storage compartment  under his bunk for a wrench. He laid back in his bunk and worked open a panel in the top. Sticking his fingers in the small gap, Coran  carefully retrieved the tablet stashed within.

The screen was covered in dust and there didn’t seem to be any charge left in the battery, which was expected after centuries of neglect,and Coran’s chest ached with guilt. His most precious treasures had laid abandoned for far too long. He had yet to face them as well, despite having been awake for over a year now. Justified it to himself over and over again with the war against the Galra, with training the new Paladins, with looking after Allura as though she still stood even with his knee. Afraid because looking meant admitting he abandoned so many of the people he loved the most. By choice and by chance.

Afraid because every picture and video was a memory and the knowledge that he’d never be able to make more with them.

Fear, however, did not suit Coran Coran the Gorgeous Man.

Coran patted around in the gap until he found the charging cable. A quick tap beside the storage compartment opened an outlet, and Coran quickly plugged in the tablet. The screen flickered to life to display the charging symbol before it darkened again. He set the tablet into the storage unit and set about readying himself for bed. There were hours until the tablet would be fully charged after all.

~

The tablet was fully charged by morning. Coran unplugged the charging cord and stared at the minimalistic lockscreen. The cursor in the password box blinked sedately at him. The keyboard between his thumbs waited for input. With a sigh, he sent the tablet aside and dressed for the day. He pulled on his boots, and didn’t spare so much as a glance at the tablet and its darkened screen.

There wasn’t any reason to get into the tablet’s data yet, he rationalized. He needed to figure out if there was enough supplies on board to make Alsanum a feasible endeavor. Which meant at least four hours of meticulously going through supply and storage logs.

After that, Coran would definitely look through the tablet for all relevant data files.

A quick check of the ship manifest revealed a treasure trove of Alsanum supplies that Coran hadn’t known about. He sent out a group message to Shiro, Hunk, Lance, Keith, and Pidge to meet him on an upper deck.

~

Coran tottered out of the storeroom, arms piled high with brightly colored clothes. He dropped them on the table and surveyed the pile with a bright smile and wistful shadowed eyes.

“Well, these are all the already made ones we had lying around,” Coran said, reaching out almost absently to brush his fingers across the edge of a sleeve. “There might be a bolt or two of cloth buried somewhere if these don’t suit your tastes, but my tailoring experience has been limited to hemming and taking in seams more than reconstructing patterns.”

Lance draped his arm over Coran’s shoulders as Pidge and Hunk started poking through the different dunsals. “I’m sure we’ll all find something, Cor. And, hey, maybe you can teach me and I can help with alterations? I’ve got mending skills but not much with actual sewing, let alone alterations and tailoring and that kind of stuff.”

“It would be my pleasure to teach you, Lance,” said Coran, eyes brightening as they turned to look at him.

Keith leaned over Pidge’s shoulder as she pulled out a large robe, orangish red at the shoulders and slowly fading into darker and redder shades until the color turned to black at the hem with red-gold suns embroidered along the bottom and a reddish gold scarf at the right shoulder. Pidge turned and held it up to Keith.

“Looks about your size,” she commented, tossing it over his shoulder and digging back into the pile.

Keith shook his head but shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it at Lance’s head as he pulled on the dunsal.

Lance rolled his eyes as he snatched Keith’s jacket out of the air. “You could’ve just _asked_ me to hold it, y’know,” he grumbled.

“Eh, I could’ve, but it’s not as fun,” said Keith.

He pushed his arms through the sleeves of the dunsal and did up the snaps on the left side at armpit, waist, and hip. The dunsal was just a little too big, too broad in the shoulders with sleeves falling nearly to the second knuckle, sagging just about everywhere else, hem just barely staying out from underfoot.

“This is ‘about my size’?” Keith asked, picking up the hem of the dunsal before he managed to trip over it.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “If you don’t like it, feel free to dive in yourself and try to find something closer.”

Keith eyed the looming pile of dunsals, replying, “Y’know, I kinda like the colors of this one so I think I’ll just stick with it.”

“Good choice.”

Lance pulled a dunsal the color of Coran’s mustache with little gold suns and held it up against his chest. The hem pooled over his feet and the shoulders were halfway down his biceps. Lance shrugged and almost chucked it back onto the pile before he glanced at Coran. Instead, Lance threw it over his shoulder as he went back to digging.

Hunk rummaged around the bottom of the pile. He unearthed plenty of dunsals that seemed more Pidge’s size than his in eye-searingly bright shades and heavier fabrics than most of the other dunsals. He had a feeling those were child dunsals, maybe even some of Allura’s old ones given the common motifs of flowers and small animals. On the next grab he struck gold in the form of a much larger, pale yellow dunsal covered in orange thumb-sized suns.

Carefully folding the dunsal, Hunk set it aside and went back to picking through the pile, this time with Pidge and Lance in mind.

Lance dug out a dark green dunsal patterned with gold stars, too small for just about anyone. Except Pidge, who paused and leaned over to look at it.

“Mine. I call dibs,” she stated, making grabby hands.

Lance laughed and pulled it away from her reaching hands. “I don’t know, Pidge, I found it first. And maybe I like blue better, but green’s pretty cool too.”

“Lance,” Pidge warned, edging closer. “It’s not even your size.”

“That’s what alterations are for.”

Pidge made a face. “It’s not even _close_ to your size. You’d have to make it a Franken-dunsal.”

“If anyone’ll be able to make it work, it’ll be me and Coran.” Lance grabbed a random dunsal and held it up next to the green one. “These two would look _awesome_ together.”

Pidge shot him a disgusted look. “It’s neon. Several shades of neon plastered together to make a monstrosity, and I am not letting you ruin a perfectly good dunsal by graphing that onto it,” she declared, tackling Lance into the pile of dunsals.

Half-buried in cloth, Lance laughed as Pidge wrestled the green dunsal out of his lax grip.  “I forget how much of a little gremlin you are, jeez.”

“Shut up,” Pidge muttered, kicking lightly at his foot as she clutched the green dunsal protectively.

Lance shook off the dunsals, complaining dramatically, “What? No thank you?”

“Thank you for being annoying, which is apparently your default state.”

Shiro tried to disguise his chuckle as a cough, but not nearly well enough. Lance shot him a betrayed look.

“I feel _sooo_ appreciated right now,” Lance muttered. “You appreciate me though, don’t you, Hunk, buddy?”

Hunk glanced between them and  informed Lance seriously, “I plead the fifth.”

“Betrayed! By my dearest friend! How _could_ you, Hunk!” Lance gasped dramatically, falling back into the dunsals.

Shiro rolled his eyes fondly and tossed a powder blue dunsal with wispy clouds at Lance’s head. “Focus on the mission, Paladins.”

Keith poked his head around the side of the pile, quipping, “I will have you know that I’m extremely focused right now.” He punctuated the statement by throwing a dunsal at Shiro’s head.

Shiro caught in one hand. He shook it out and appraised the colors that flowed from black with tiny pinpricks of silvery-white to a purple-red sunset color at the bottom. He  held it up against his chest, checking the shoulder seams. “I think this one might actually be wide enough across the shoulders. The biceps might be kinda iffy though.”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to complain if you have to go sleeveless,” Lance told him with an eyebrow wriggle. At Shiro’s deadpan look, Lance just grinned before turning to Coran, who was leaned up against a wall away from the dunsal chaos. “Hey, Coran, does Allura need a dunsal?”

Coran blinked and shook his head. “Oh, no, we already have dunsals, though deities know it’s been an age and a day since we last wore them.”

“Oh,” Lance said, discreetly tossing the mustache-colored dunsal back on the pile. “Cool.”

“So, we’ve got the dunsals figured out. What’s next?” Pidge asked.

“The plays were next on the agenda.”

Lance perked up. “Are we going to see some Altean soap operas first hand?”

Coran chuckled, explaining, “Not as such. Alsanum plays all feature our patron goddess Alma and her bestowment of life and light to Alteans. Occasionally other myths as well, but putting on one play will be a trial for us, let alone more, especially with the need to make either costumes or puppets.”

“I vote puppets, especially if we’re planning to rotate cast,” Pidge interjected. “Though making them might be a bit of a challenge.”

“Ah, well, traditionally, the puppets were wood,” Coran said thoughtfully. “But those would be far too difficult, given the skill needed. However I believe I can make some designs compatible with the Castle’s fabrication units for puppets make of wood-like synthetics and outfitting them with wireless controllers shouldn't take too long with another set or two of hands.”

Shiro nodded, asking, “What would we need to present the plays? Some kind of stage?”

“A combination of both stage and screen actually. Designing and constructing the puppet stage will most likely require the most skill and effort,” Coran said.

Pidge, Lance, and Shiro all turned to Hunk.

Hunk scowled. “Okay, let me remind you that I am a _mechanical engineer_ with middling electrical experience. Not a civil engineer or an architect or a carpenter. Also, are we all just conveniently forgetting that Keith built a livable shack out in the desert?”

They glanced at Keith, who blinked back blankly.

“Not really? I mean, it was missing a couple walls and I had to replace parts of the roof, so it was more repair work than actual construction,” Keith said, scratching his head. “But I guess I’ll take the lead on that project or lend my experience?”

“With stage stuff tentatively figured out, now we can focus on the important parts: what are the roles and who’s playing who?” asked Lance.

“I call narrator!” Pidge announced.

Keith glanced at Pidge, eyebrows raised as he reminded her, “We don’t even know what all the roles are yet.”

“I’m not that great of actor,” Pidge admitted. “Also, that way I get to point and laugh when everyone else crashes and burns.”

Coran cleared his throat. “The Bestowment of Light features six roles, including the narrator. The leading role is that of the Altean mother goddess and creator Alma, whom made myth said made the universe together with Malvic, the god of balance and shepherd of the dead, and Winak the Trickster.

“Malvic features prominently as a sympathetic antagonist displeased with the creation of Alteans due to their ability to manipulate quintessence, disrupt the balance of the universe, and complicate the cycling of quintessence in the universe.

“Winak  features as mainly as an antagonist in league with Malvic, given that he transformed a gift of conjuring fire at will to flaming rocks falling from the skies periodically .

“The last two characters are the first Altean Vera, and her son Juran, who ask Alma to give light to their people.”   

“I think grumpy shepherd of the dead sounds like the perfect role for Keith,” Lance suggested with teasing grin.

Keith rolled his eyes. “And you sound like a great fit for the knucklehead who thought flaming rocks falling from the sky was a great idea.”

“Excuse you,” replied Lance, “but I think I would be an awesome Alma--kind, benevolent, pretty as all get out--”

“I think you’re mistaking yourself for Hunk again,” Pidge interrupted.

“Guys, I’ve already claimed responsibility for making the entire Alsanum menu,” reminded Hunk. “I am not taking on a speaking role. If I’m involved at all, it’ll be as the dude who opens the curtains and changes the backgrounds.”

“Well, my vote’s on Coran for Alma, since that role has the most lines and Coran probably already knows at least half of them,” Shiro put it.

Coran glanced up from his tablet, startled. “ _Me_?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,”  assured Shiro. “But this is all happening thanks to you, so it’s only fair if you get the leading role. At least for the first night. We can draw lots for the rest of the roles and mix it up the other four nights.”

Coran pulled up an app on his tablet and made virtual lots. Each Paladin took turns tapping the screen of Coran’s tablet to pick their lots.

Shiro drew Winak and commented, “This should be interesting.”

“This is just like that time in first grade when we drew lots for this fairytale mashup play and I got Aurora,” Lance announced as he drew Vera.

“I think this part has more speaking lines and less kissing,” Hunk pointed out optimistically as he drew his lot. “Annnd it looks like you're playing my mom.”

“Sorry, Pidge,” Keith said as he drew narrator.

Pidge didn't even bother drawing the last lot. “So I get to be grumpy lord of the dead, master of balance. Yay.”

“Now that that’s decided, all that’s left to decide is the food,” said Shiro.

Coran nodded, fingers flexing against his biceps. “I have some recipe videos so all that really needs to be done is figuring out substitutions for ingredients that were exclusive to Altea.”

“Well, there's also presentation to worry about,” Hunk put in. “Like, are we laying stuff out buffet style or do we want to repurpose a couple androids and do like festival stalls?”

Coran blinked blankly at Hunk for a moment before turning thoughtful. “Stalls would be more traditional undoubtedly and contribute possibly to a festive setting, but a buffet style would require less preparation and materials.”

“So it boils down to aesthetic value versus effort expenditure. And maybe monetary if we need to buy materials,” Pidge added.

Coran pulled up his tablet, commenting, “There should be enough spare metal or synthetics to manage two or three stalls for refreshments, and it can be recycled into the pool after use so we shouldn’t need to replace it.”

“Well, do we have sheets or poles or what?” Hunk asked. “Because we definitely need to take ambient heat of the stalls into account when we’re repurposing androids. Though to be fair Altean heat shielding is way more advanced than anything we’ve got on Earth.”

“Currently the metal and synthetics is stored as bars as the Castle has manufacturing capabilities ranging from temporary shelters to Castle  repair,” elaborated Coran.

Hunk nodded, impressed. “I am totally checking those out later. I personally vote synthetics, since I’m assuming they have a lower thermal mass. Now, if this was Earth, I’d ask if we could add some coloring to make it look like wood, but I have no idea what traditional Alsanum booths look like so color and any texturing will be up to you to decide, Coran.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Coran murmured to himself, tapping intently on the tablet. “It’s been so long since I’ve used those functions of the Castle that I’ve forgotten all the options. I should go browse them before deciding.” Excuse made, Coran slipped out of the room.

There was a pause before Hunk piped up, “Am I the only one who found that slightly, I don’t know, _weird_? As far as Coran excuses go.”

“Not just you,” Pidge agreed.

Lance nodded. “Definitely weird.”

“He also still had recipe videos to show you,” Shiro added, “and he’s not the type to forget about that.”

“I’ll give him a few hours to do whatever he needs to do before I look for him,” Hunk decided.

~

Hunk finally managed to corner Coran during dinner prep. “So you mentioned having some recipe videos?”

Coran nodded, hands tightening on his recently omnipresent tablet before slowly relaxing his grip as he pulled up the video list. He very carefully avoided looking at the thumbnails. “Yes, for the simpler foods: alcorkan (Altean sun cakes), including a few recipes for toppings; renakata (Altean star tea), which isn’t so much for the tea itself as the stars—they change color! My—,” Coran stopped, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before opening again.

Clearing his throat, Coran continued, “It was very popular on Altea, especially among children. Let’s see, there’s also one on renakba (Altean star candy); how to prepare a renakum, but those were endemic to Altea so finding any would be nigh impossible; ineakan (Altean moon cakes) will all the usual fillings and the dineakan variant; akdov, which is a video that I was unaware I possessed and we can, and _should_ really, do without—”

“Well, before we just dismiss it out of hand, can I ask what exactly is akdov?” Hunk asked, peering down at the tablet. Not that it actually did him much good since he couldn’t read small, upside down Altean script.    

“Hard liquor,” replied Coran, encrypting the video and moving it to a separate folder. “Much stronger than nunvil. While Allura and I both assume you five are at least old enough for military enlistment, the Altean drinking age for hard liquor was three years higher. As such, Shiro is likely the only Paladin old enough to indulge with Allura and me should we attempt to recreate akdov. Wasted effort, as this is supposed to be for everyone.”

“Back on Earth, all of us except Pidge were at, or over, the legal drinking age for most of the planet,” Hunk pointed out.

Coran considered it. “I suppose there are regulations allowing enlisted personnel to drink with the supervision of senior personnel. The Old Enough to Die, Old Enough to Drink clause we called it.”

“Okaaay,” said Hunk. “What else is on there?”

“Not much: marinades and directions for roasting vegetables and meat in the alquissanum.”

“The what now?” Hunk asked.

“The alquissanum, the five-day bonfire,” Coran explained. “For the first four nights it’s used mainly as a heat source, but on the fifth day, Alquissa, you roast root vegetable and meat either around or in the fire. There’s also an event, at the very end, where you throw things that represent the year’s regrets into the fire as a sort of cleansing.”

“Anyhow, here’s the first. I’ll transfer the rest to your data account later.” Tapping the first video, Coran gently pressed the tablet into Hunk’s hands before taking three steps back to lean against the refrigerator, crossing his arms over his chest. Hunk gave Coran a confused glance before turning his attention to the video playing on the tablet.

_[A darker skinned Altean man with electric blue hair, younger than Coran but older than Allura, stood in the foreground, wearing a neon pink apron covered with hands prints in neon yellow, green, and purple and a wide grin that crinkled the corners of the yellow markings under his grey eyes._

_“Hello, and welcome to cooking with Elto Smythe Wimbleton!” he greeted brightly, flinging his arms wide. A large sticky glob_ (Hunk guessed it was batter) _flew in from offscreen and splattered against the side of Elto’s head to a round of high pitched cheers._

_Elto crouched out of frame, popping up a few moments later as he used a towel covered with cartoon Lions to scrape batter off his face. “And now to introduce my amazing, wonderful, brilliant guests!” Elto said cheerfully, directing the camera to turn with a wave._

_Three kids sat around a table with a large pan full of half circle divots on a heating element. Elto entered from offscreen and draped himself over the back of the closest chair, ruffling the dark red hair of the dark skinned Altean girl with green markings._

_“Now this beautiful young princess here is Keena,” introduced Elto._

_Keena groaned, “Dad. Can you try to be slightly less embarrassing while you’re recording something other people are going to see? Please?”_

_Instead of replying, Elto slid over to the next chair, beaming down at the older Altean boy with grey hair, blue markings, and a pale hand covering his face. “And here we have the wondrous Taren, who’s a bit camera shy, but we’ll see his handsome face later.”_

_“Oh deities, you’re worse than Papa,” Taren muttered as Elto moved on to the last chair._

_“Lastly, but in no way least-ly,” Elto said, beaming at the camera (even as Keena muttered “Leastly isn’t even a word”), “the newest addition to our family, the charming and lovely Pimara!”_

_Pimara, slightly older than Taren, tucked a strand of dark blue hair behind her ear and rolled her eyes. “Were all the adjectives really necessary?”_

_“Of course! How else are you three going to remember how amazing and wonderful I find you all after you move out on your own and leave me here all by my lonesome self?”_

_Keena rolled her eyes. “More like you and Papa will finally be able to be all mushy together without an audience.”_

_Elto clapped his hands together, redirecting, “Anyhow! Today, we four will be make the delicious Altean delicacy known as alcorkans, in honor of Alsanum fast approaching!”_

_“Why does my face have to be in this again?” Taren whined. “Especially after having to listen to Dad trying to convince us to wear matching dunsals this year. For like the sixty billionth time. Despite the fact that no one’s done that in the last century.”_

_Elto ignored the commentary as he trotted over to the pantry and started pulling out ingredients.]_

Hunk paused the video, glancing at Coran. “Is it really okay for me to watch these? They seem kind of... _personal_.”

Coran smiled brightly (though Hunk noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes). “Of course, Hunk. They’re meant for family after all.”

Hunk smiled and grab Coran in a hug. “Yeah, man. But you do know this means I’m commandeering you for taste trials once I figure out possible substitutions that won’t kill anyone.”

“I would be honored, Hunk.”

_~_

Hunk spent the next week watching videos on his tablet in the lounge between missions. The videos themselves were always fun and cheery with clear step by step directions and also the effects of each ingredient on the dish as a whole (which made Hunk’s task to find substitutes slightly easier), but each one was a graphic reminder of what exactly Coran had lost with the destruction of Altean.

By far, the ineakan video was by far the hardest to watch.

[ _The video opened to the same sleek kitchen as the previous ones, Elto smiling brightly and wearing the same garish pink apron._

_He spread his hands invitingly, chirping, “Welcome once again to Cooking with Elto Smythe Wimbleton! Today we’re making renakata with a very special guest, whom many of you watching may already know.” Turning to the left, Elto stage-whispered, “Cue the music!”_

_Sounds half-way between a flute and a clarinet started, joined a few seconds later by a rhythm of drum-like plops to make a slow almost-dreamy melody._

_Elto sighed, and shot a look at someone off camera._

_“The other theme, Keena darling,” Elto said patiently. “Which I’m sure you know as this track is clearly titled with ‘Our Theme’ and you’ve been able to read for more than a few decapheebs now.”_

_“Honest mistake, Dad,” replied Keena sweetly from offscreen._

_Elto shot a look at the camera as if to say oh, yes, of_ course _, it was. There were muffled chuckles off to the right, and Elto turned a stern look in that direction, scolding, “Don’t you encourage her mischief.”_

_A deep trumpet-esque instrument sounded off screen. Elto jumped, banging his elbow into the lip of the island, and a second burst of horns covered what was probably a curse by the sheepish look on his face a moment later. Bells chimed and lyrics started._

Coran~

Coran~

The Most Gorgeous Man~

Oh, Coran Coran, he’s been near and far~

Intergalatic pirate fashion star!~

_Coran swept on screen with a billowing cape behind him, large sound glasses with multicolored lenses, and a white apron with little Voltron Lions as the music faded out._

_“Our special guest,” Elto announced fondly, gesturing broadly, “Coran Hieronmyus Wimbleton Smythe!”_

_Coran bowed, gently grasping Elto’s hand and pressing lips against Elto’s knuckles. “A pleasure to be featured in one of your delightful videos, my beloved.”_

_Keena made a disgusted sound from offscreen while Elto smiled and leaned down to kiss Coran, murmuring, “You silly gorgeous man of mine.”]_

“Holy crow,” Lance breathed next to Hunk’s ear, “Is that Coran?”

Hunk squawked and flailed, nearly braining Lance with the tablet. “I’ve told you a dozen times not to just pop up out of nowhere and start talking in my ear!”

“Sorry, buddy.  Is that one of those recipe videos Coran mentioned?” asked Lance, peering at the paused video curiously.

“Yeah.”

“And I’m guessing that’s Coran’s boyfriend.”

“Husband,” Hunk corrected quietly. “At least one of their kids is offscreen somewhere too.”

Lance winced. “Oh man. Did Coran say anything when he gave you the videos?”

“He said they were meant for family, and I hugged him and kinda bullied him into taste testing for me, but that’s it.”

“I want to respect Coran’s boundaries and decision not to talk about it, but there’s also the fact that bottling it up and refusing to even really acknowledge their loss probably isn’t doing him any good,” Lance lamented, draping himself over the back of the couch.

Hunk shrugged helplessly, commenting, “I don’t think making him talk about it is going to do any good. But he is helping put on the festival which seems to have been a Thing for his family, so, y’know, maybe this is part of how he’s coming to terms with it.”

“What I’m hearing,” Lance said, “is we need to make this the best damn light festival Coran’s ever seen, and hope he sheds some cathartic tears in the process.”

“Something like that, yeah,” affirmed Hunk.

Lance sighed and clapped Hunk on the shoulder. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us, buddy.”

Hunk comforted, “At least Coran isn't making us do the really traditional version of the play that’s like 60 pages long, not including stage directions.”

“Small mercies.”

~

“Hunk has been spending an unusual amount of time in the kitchens,” Allura commented after a training exercise, helmet tucked under her arm.

Lance froze for a moment then shook it off and tried to pretend that he hadn’t. “It’s Hunk, Princess. He spends plenty of time in the kitchens.”

“More than he used to,” she insisted, scrutinizing Lance. “You and Pidge have also been paying particularly close attention to the food at local markets recently as well.”

Lance scoffed unconvincingly, babbling, “What? No. Definitely not. Pidge and I totally haven’t been giving any markets any extra attention. We give them the exact same attention we gave them before. Paying exotic food special attention because we’re helping Hunk with some new old recipes? Hogwash.”

“Hogwash?” asked Allura, distracted.

Lance barely held back a sigh of relief. “Earth expression. It means nonsense.”

Allura tilted her head to the side just slightly, gaze piercing as she stated, “You three are up to something.”

“I can promise you that the three of us are up to absolutely nothing,” Lance replied, crossing his fingers behind his back and mentally amending, _the six of us are_ definitely _up to something_ . _But it’s a good something_.

Didn’t stop him from sweating under Allura’s stare. He willfully refrained from pulling at the neck of his undersuit because that might as well have been waving a flag and shouting for all the universe to hear he was hiding something. So, okay, they didn’t _have_ to keep the whole thing a surprise for Allura—she’d probably love to help—but there was a kind of childlike glee in keeping this one little harmless secret and waiting for the perfect moment to unveil it and see the wonder and awe their hard work would inspire.

So, yeah. Lance wasn’t going to spoil that anytime soon.

Allura pointed towards her eyes then at Lance. “I’m keeping an eye on you three. Don’t even think I’m going to let you get away with anything that doesn’t include me,” she promised.

“Aye aye, Princess,” Lance acknowledge with a salute. He waited until she was out of sight before diving for his tablet and sending a message to the groupchat.

 **[Lancelot]:** SOS, Buttercup knows Something’s Up.

 **[AceInSpace]:** That took longer than expected. There’s only like two weeks until D-Day.

 **[HunkaHunkaBurningLove]:** How much does she suspect??

 **[Lancelot]** : Just that you, Pidge, and I are up to something that involves food. Don’t think she suspects Operation: Light Show.

 **[Mr.Stabs-a-Lot]:** Remind me again why we let Lance come up with the codename again.

 **[Mr.Stabs-a-Lot]:** Also, will someone tell me how to change my nickname on this stupid chat?

 **[AceInSpace]:** Because your idea was Operation: ALF. For Altean Light Festival.

 **[AceInSpace]:** And sorry, dude. Sim crew code.

 **[Mr.Stabs-a-Lot]:** THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS THE SIM CREW CODE.

 **[Lancelot]:** Oh hey you finally found the caps lock.

 **[DatBoi]:** Keith, it’s under settings.

~

Shiro peered at the Castle manifest then back at the plate beside the storeroom. “I think we took a wrong turn somewhere.”

“Coran said it was four floors up, the third left from the main lift, two intersections down, and then the sixth room on the right,” Pidge argued.

“Yes,” he agreed, “but the manifest says that the materials are in γ9-642. This is λ9-642.”

Pidge glanced at the manifest then grimaced at her tablet, guessing, “γ9-642 is on the opposite side of the Castle isn’t it.”

“Same place actually, just twelve floors up,” comforted Shiro.

Pidge groaned. “My arms are going to fall off from carrying stuff for that long.”

“Look on the bright side,” Shiro quipped, “at least you don’t have to take the stairs.”

She glared at him over the rims of her glasses.

He chuckled and shrugged. “Just sayin’.”

“You’re all but invoking Murphy,” Pidge muttered. “Things have been going smoothly lately. _Far_ too smoothly. We’ve been on Gazaya for a week already, and there hasn’t been anything big enough that we needed to form Voltron.”

“It’ll be fine,” Shiro assured, patting her shoulder.

Pidge didn’t answer in favor of backtracking to the lift.

By the time they arrived, Keith, Hunk, and Lance were already waiting outside γ9-642.

Hunk raised an eyebrow at the state of Pidge’s hair and shot Shiro a questioning look. Shiro shrugged minutely, inclining his head towards the storeroom.

“Well, now that’s everyone’s here,” Lance said, bouncing on his toes, “let’s get this show on the road!”

~

Allura was neck deep in reports when someone knocked on the door to her study.

Setting aside a Blade of Marmora report on the ships in the Theta quadrant, Allura called, “Come in.”

Coran stuck his head in, grinning ruefully. “Sorry to disturb you, your highness, but the Paladins have requested your presence in the dining hall.”

“Only me?” Allura inquired, eyes narrowing. “What could they want me for, but not include you?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea. Perhaps they’re simply remembering my meeting with the Tharin chieftain,” suggested Coran.

She narrowed her eyes at Coran, accusing, “You’re in on whatever Hunk, Lance, and Pidge are planning, aren’t you.”

“Numbers 2, 3, and 5 are planning something? Do tell,” Coran prompted, leaning farther into the room.

Allura scrutinized Coran closely. “I’m not sure what the particulars are, but they’re up to something.

“I’m sure it’s harmless, whatever it is.”

“Harmless, I have little doubt of. Mischief,” she emphasized, pushing away from her desk, “is another matter entirely.”

Coran grinned, eyes twinkling. “Mischief is sometimes the best part, your highness.”

“Oh, yes, it is,” Allura agreed with a grin of her own.

Coran walked with her to the lift and say her off with a bright, “Have fun, Princess!”

Allura contemplated what might lie in wait for her. The Paladins, no doubt. The real question was the Paladins and what else. Food goo was a very real possibility, though she dearly hoped not. While the Castle’s laundry facilities were top notch, there was only so much food goo her clothes could handle before they needed to be replaced, and she doubted the Castles just had piles of fabric laying around to make new ones.

Pillows, Allura decided, were also a contender. She had heard the Paladins discussing pillow fights before as a common Earth bonding exercise in place of sparring. While she couldn’t imagine pillows as adequate weapons, they were a fairly safe option to be swinging around at unprepared allies. Though only slightly less messy than food goo.

She reached the door to the dining hall far too soon to consider every possibility and paused. Cocked an ear towards the door and listened.

Silence.

Never a good sign with all the Paladins gathered together. Bracing herself, Allura opened the door and was greeted by—an empty dining hall.

“Well,” she muttered, “I certainly wasn’t expecting that.”

Footsteps echoed in the hall behind her, and Allura turned to look. The Paladins marched single file down the hall with Hunk in front, carrying boxes, coils of wire, and what appeared to be _branches_ of all things.

Allura was thoroughly baffled as to what they had planned.

Hunk saw her first and exclaimed, “Gah! You’re early.”

“Early for what exactly?” she asked curiously, peering into Hunk’s box as he passed her into the dining hall. It appeared to be filled with tools and some kinds of squeeze bottles.

Shiro piped up from the back of the line, “Baethunal making.”

“You want to make baethunals?” Allura repeated blankly, staring at the Paladins loaded down with supplies. “Where did you even hear about them?”

Pidge dropped a box of how-to guides on the table, replying, “Coran. He mentioned them when talking about Alsanum and we thought it might be fun since tomorrow is the technically the first day.”

“Altea might be gone, but that doesn’t mean its traditions have to be,” Hunk added as  he laid out pliers, wire clippers, soldering irons, carving tools, clamps,  and glues.

Allura picked one of the bottles of glue and peered at it in wonder. “Where did you _find_ these things? I thought all of it perished with Altea.”

“Apparently someone stashed emergency Alsanum supplies in a stockroom,” Lance said as he dropped four large coils of thin wire on the table.

Shiro set down a clear case of crystals and gems, muttering dryly, “Including enough dunsals to bury us alive.”

“Where in the galaxy did you find pirmalvic?” Allura asked, peering at the tiny dark  violet-green gems in one of the middle drawers. “They were incredibly rare even on Altea and much too precious to export.”

“Coran found that  stashed in a safe,” said Keith as he unloaded the bundles of long thin branches onto the table. “Probably as monetary reserves should the castle and whoever’s in it end up somewhere Altean currency isn’t accepted. Which is pretty much everywhere now. Coran suggested staying away from the really rare ones, though, just in case.”

Allura stared at the branches, speechless. “Are those—are those _tharei_ branches? Tharei bushes were endemic to Altea! Those must be over 10,000 years old! How—?”

“So ‘stashed in a stockroom’ might actually be closer to ‘so carefully preserved it could survive a nuclear holocaust let alone just sitting around for 10,000 years,” Lance admitted, surveying the table.

“Someone from Altea really wanted this particular piece of heritage preserved,” Pidge commented as she started flipping through one of the how-to guides. “Ooo, Lance, look at this one.”

Lance leaned down for a closer look and made an appreciative sound.

Allura turned to Hunk and Shiro, struggling for words. She eventually settled on, “I haven’t made a baethunal in years, even before.”

“That’s more experience than any of us have,” Shiro pointed out.

“And it’ll be fun making them all together,” Hunk added.

Blinking back tears, Allura grabbed them in a back-breaking hug. “Thank you,” she sniffled. “Thank you all so much.”

“So,” Keith interjected, holding up a tharei branch and a coil of silvery purple wire, “would a branch or wire be better for an amateur?”

~

Making baethunals took the better part of two days, but Allura though the end products were well worth the effort as she admired her baethunal. Shining sungold wire twisted and curved in graceful swirls to form a simple circlet with one small upward point, supported by two four-pronged spirals with a small oval of two-toned blue-pink skyglass shimmering faintly with just a drop of quintessence.

“Wow,” Pidge commented, leaning over for a closer work. “All that wrestling with the pliers paid off; those swirls are awesome.”

Pidge’s baethunal had taken shape easily enough with two dark branches of tharei woven together. The finer work of carving strings of numbers Hunk had called binary, arranged into leaf and petal shapes, had taken the bulk of the first day to finish. Pidge had spent the second painstakingly accenting the designs with rich color so the baethunal wouldn’t blend so easily with her hair.

Allura smiled. “Thanks, Pidge. I like the subtle decoration of yours. It suits you.”

“How do you think mine turned out, Princess?” Lance asked, donning his baethunal with a flourish and a wink.

The bottom of the sungold wire frame rested just above Lance’s brows and brought the highlights in his hair while the five-strand braid of blue-green mithril bouncing between the sungold frame brought out the flecks of color in his eyes. For a first attempt at a baethunal with no experience with wire work, Allura thought it was quite exceptional.

“Well, it currently has your colors.” After a moment, she added, “The braid also shows you are _very_ good with your hands.”

Lance flailed out of his chair. Narrowly avoiding a head-on collision with the floor, Lance caught himself on the edge of the table and dragged himself upright, sputtering the whole while with his baethunal sat crookedly on his head. “You can’t just—how could you—with a straight face—just—ugh! You did that on purpose,” he accused.

“Do what on purpose?” Allura asked, making her eyes large and round and guileless.

“Hunk, buddy,” pleaded Lance, “back me up here.”

Hunk glanced up from soldering little star-like pieces of orange skyglass to his simple braided sungold wire baethunal. “What I am backing you up on?”

“Hunk,” Lance pouted.

“Yes, that is my name,” Hunk replied easily.

Lance sighed and turned to Keith. “Keith, we’re friends, right? You saw what just happened didn’t you?”

“I saw a justifiable homicide,” he replied, carefully using small pieces of sungold wire to solder a twisted double-strand of zig-zagging purple startear wire to a circular frame of the same. He paused, glancing sidelong at Allura. “Well, more manslaughter than homicide seeing as it wasn’t intentional.”

“Oh c’mon,” Lance whined.

Shiro glanced up from painting silvery starbursts on his baethunal of three woven tharei branches. After a quick glance around the table, he leaned towards Lance. “Y’know, I think—maybe, just maybe—that it was intentional.”

Lance gestured to Shiro triumphantly as he looked at Allura, declaring, “Thank you, Shiro. It is refreshing to have someone on my side for once.”  

“Anytime, bud.”

“Yoohoo~,” Coran interjected, sticking his head in from the hall. “And how is everyone on this lovely Alcorsa?”

Allura grinned at him. “I knew you were the mastermind behind this, Coran. And it’s been brilliant.”

“Good.” Coran’s eye crinkled as he smiled. “Would you like to make it even better?

Pidge straightened up from spinning her baethunal, answering enthusiastically, “ _Yes_.”

There was a beat of silence before Lance laid his head on the table, laughing, as Keith sighed and Shiro put his hand over his eyes.

“Subtle, Pidge,” Hunk murmured.

Pidge rolled her eyes.

Allura scrutinized them each in turn before looking at Coran, who was attempting to look innocent. “I suppose whatever it is worth a looksee.”

“Excellent. I took the liberty of airing out your dunsal, Princess, which you will find along with a set of tarsin. The rest of us have prepared duansals and tarsin as well.”

“Dunsals _and_ tarsin?” Allura inquired, suspicious. “The dunsals I could understand—they have some gorgeous patterns and colors, though we’ve had few occasions to wear them. But tarsin are meant for warmth under dunsals.” She narrowed her eyes at Coran. “What are you planning that we would be outdoors long enough to be cold?”

“Just a walk in the twilight, where we might bask in the all the lights of this galaxy,” Coran replied.

Shiro added, “We even managed to find some bioluminescent bell flowers to light the path.”  

Allura softened. “That sounds lovely.”

“Now that it’s settled,” Coran announced, clapping his hands together, “Let’s break to change and meet at the entrance in twenty minutes.”

~

Allura smoothed her hands over her dunsal, absently tracing the purple petals of juniberries patterned over a background of white. Even 10,000 years later, the colors were still as crisp and bright as if Allura had simply pulled it down from the back of her closest for another yearly Alsanum festival. She half-expected her parents to turn up. Or a kitchen aide with a tray with bite sized alcorkan and flutes of renakata.

As Allura lost interest in the designs on her dunsal, she took to touching her hair and making sure it was all still in place. She didn’t usually wear braids. Either she put it up in a bun to keep it out of the way or left it loose so her hair blanketed her back and shoulders. But it was Alcorsa and Allura was the Princess of Altea, the last of the royal lineage, so she had pulled it back and slowly woven it into a three-stranded braid that hung down to the small of her back. Allura pulled the braid over her shoulder to inspect the small bit of pink ribbon she had used to tie it off.  

“Punctual as usual I see, Princess,” Coran called from behind her.

Allura turned to meet him, saying, “Timing is very important when it comes to diplomacy.”

Light glanced off of Coran’s familiar baethunal of sungold-wrapped skyglass in faintly shimmering blue, yellow, green, and purple. It complemented his dark blue dunsal covered in yellow and orange flaming rocks. Though, the sleeves and hem were noticeably short, allowing the black of the tarsin to show, and the fabric seemed almost distressed across the width of Coran’s chest, which was odd as Coran was usually a man of all trades imaginable, including tailoring. Extremely odd, really, since as far back as she remembered, Coran had wore dunsals patterned with flaming rocks. Grey usually. The one who wore blue had always been Elto.

“Oh, Coran,” Allura breathed, realizing exactly whose dunsal he was wearing.

Coran smiled at her, soft and fond and tragic. “I was gone that year for Alsanum so I snagged Elto’s instead. I meant to return it, and. Never got the chance.”

“I’m sure he didn’t mind,” Allura comforted, linking their arms and resting her head on Coran’s shoulder. “I bet he was glad that you had that at least to remember him by. Something more than just memories.”

“I wish you had something more to remember your parents by,” Coran murmured into her hair.

She huffed, turning to look at him. “Don’t do that, Coran. Don’t minimize your loss just because you had already lost so much before Altea was destroyed. We both lost everything: our families, our home, our people. Our grief is equal.” Allura sighed turning away to stare out the entrance of the Castle at the bruised skyline. “Yours might even be greater.”

“Pain is not a competition,” Coran said quietly.

“It’s not,” Allura agreed. “And I understand that you’ve decided to put the universe, the Paladins, and me first, which is very noble. But, Coran? Don’t forget yourself. Please, I don’t want to lose you too.”

Coran lifted a hand and brushed away a tear from the corner of his eye, promising, “I will do all I can so that never happens, Princess.”

“Good.”

“Sorry we’re late!” Shiro pronounced as the Paladins arrived.  “Pidge and Lance convinced Keith to let them braid his hair.”

Allura peeked around Shiro to get a glimpse. By the look of it, Pidge and Lance had braided the hair at Keith’s temples and then woven the side braids together at the back. She thought it accented his baethunal nicely, even though there was something almost unsettling about seeing someone of Galra heritage with braided hair during Alsanum.

“Now that everyone’s here,” Coran called, gathering everyone’s attention. “It’s time to head out.”

“ _Finally,_ ” Pidge said as she started down the stairs at a jog.

Lance  squawked in outrage and took off after her. “Gah, no fair, Pidge!”

“You snooze, you lose!” she called back.

Keith, not about to be outdone, set out after them.

Allura glanced questioningly at Coran, probing, “They seem awfully excited for an evening stroll.”

He simply smiled and patted her arm. “I suppose we should go after them to make sure they don’t get into any trouble.”

“Way ahead of you,” Shiro muttered as he chased after the trouble trio.

“I think I’ll walk with you guys,” Hunk declared. “I’m not in much a running mood.”

Little patches of dimly glowing flowers lit a path from the edge of the Castle, through the clearing, and into the modest forest surrounding it. Allura was content to follow Coran’s lead for the first ten minutes, but the farther they trekked into the forest, the more curious she grew as there had yet to be any sign of the Paladins ahead turning back.

“How far are we going?” Allura asked.

Hunk glanced at the bioluminescent flowers, gauging the distance between them. “Not that much farther now. Probably just past this next bend,” he said, gesturing ahead to where the path curved towards a fairly narrow canyon between two cliffs.

If Allura looked carefully, it seemed as though there was light coming from the mouth of the valley.

“Did you build an alquissanum all the way out here?” Allura asked. “Is that you were doing when you said you had a meeting with the chieftain?”

Coran grinned. “You’ll see.”

They turned the bend and Allura stumbled to a halt at the sight of the canyon. It wasn’t very long and she could see a large bonfire in a clearing on the other side, but that seemed like an afterthought. Against the right canyon wall, someone had erected a trio of stalls with signs in Altean script for drinks, savory snacks, and desserts. There were even little menus posted on the side. Some of the Castle androids were decked out in dunsals and little chef hats, and the smell of cooking meat, roasted vegetables, and buuta hung heavy in the air. On the opposite side, a stage had been erected.

But all Allura could see was the palace gardens with nearly identical stalls and a much grander stage for a traditional costumed play, filled with laughter and joy with children running to and fro like tiny comets of neon colors.

Allura didn’t even notice she was crying until Hunk started babbling and flailing.

“Oh, this is really bad. This was supposed to make you _happy_ , no one wanted tears. I really didn’t sign up for tears and I don’t have pockets in this thing or I would totally offer you a hankie right now.”

Coran produced a handkerchief from his sleeve with a flourish and presented it to Allura without comment.

She took it and dab at her eyes. “I’m not upset,” she told Hunk. She blew her nose before continuing, “I just. I just never thought I’d see something like this again after Altea perished. I mean, the baethunals were a surprise all on their own, but never would I have expected something like _this_.”

Hunk relaxed. “Oh, happy tears. I can handle happy tears. Though, uh, you might want to head over to the stalls soon if you want to get anything before those guys eat it all.”

“A marvelous idea,” Allura agreed, returning the handkerchief to Coran and marching over to elbow her way to the front of the dessert stall.

 ~

Six helpings of alcorkan later, Allura asked, “Is the stage just for show or were there plans for an actual play?”

“Of course, we’re doing a play,” Lance replied.

Keith added, “The abridge puppet version though, since we’re not really acting troupe material and there was a lot to do in between missions already.”

“The fact you managed to put all this off without me knowing is a feat in and of itself,” Allura commended. “If you had the time to put together a fully costumed traditional version, I would need to start insisting on more training exercises.”

“Please, no,” Hunk pleaded.

Coran chuckled, pushing to his feet. “Give us a bit and we’ll have everything ready to go.”

Pidge grabbed the puppet controllers from behind the storage container behind the dessert stall and passed them out while Coran and Hunk double-checked the stage props and puppet placements.

“Everyone ready?” Coran asked, hand on the curtain pulley. The Paladins nodded and, with a wide grin, Coran raised the curtain and announced, “Showtime!”

On center of the stage stood three puppets: a tall feminine puppet with dark skin, long white hair in a braid, and yellow markings; a smaller masculine puppet with short black hair, pale skin, and dark purple markings; and a medium puppet with curly brown hair, tan skin, and green markings.

“In a time eons upon eons past,” Keith started, “three deities lived in the void: bright Alma,—” Coran twirled a stick on his controller and the white-haired Alma puppet waved—“stern Malvic,—” Pidge crossed the arms of the black-haired Malvic puppet—“and mischievous Winak.” Shiro pressed a button and the curly-haired Winak puppet bounced up and down.

Keith continued, “One day, Alma decided that the void was too empty.”

“I shall make a most wonderful place!” Coran declared in a falsetto as the Alma puppet flung out her arms. “Somewhere where my friends and I can spend our days and have fun!”

“And so Alma made Altea.”

Hunk gently pulled a cord and the background change from dull black to a nighttime forest.

Coran exclaimed, “Look at how big and green it is!

“Too big and too green, if you ask me,” Pidge grumbled as Malvic.

”She didn’t,” Shiro quipped as Winak, earning snickers from the audience.

“And for an age,” Keith continued, “Alma, Malvic, and Winak were content to live on Altea and take in her sights. But one day Alma wandered off on her own and realized how empty Altea seemed with just the three deities.”

“It feels almost lonely,” Coran said, the Alma puppet drooping sadly.

Keith stifled a laugh. “And so Alma decided to build a woman of clay and infused her with quintessence.”

The Alma puppet made a few  scooping motions at the floor before a puff of smoke flared from below. The smoke cleared to reveal a puppet nearly identical to Alma, except with orange markings.

“I’m Alma,” Coran said as the Alma held out a hand to the new puppet, “and I think I’ll call you Vera.”

The Vera puppet reached out to the Alma puppet as Lance crooned, “Vera, I like that name!”

It took Keith almost a minute to stop laughing enough to continue. “While Alma was overjoyed to have a new friend, Winak and Malvic were not so impressed.”

“Do you have any idea what you just did to the balance, Alma?” Pidge griped, attempting to throw her voice down an octave as the Malvic puppet flailed.

The Alma puppet shrugged. “I’m sure you can handle it.”

Pidge made a throaty sound of inarticulate rage, earning approving looks and nods all around.

The Winak puppet circled the Vera puppet and Shiro declared simply, “I don’t like you.”

Keith snickered, continuing, “And so Winak told Vera stories about the horror of the void and made the winds to rustle the trees.”

The Winak puppet wriggled their arms as Shiro made ghostly whooshing sounds.

Hunk clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“Scared to be alone,” Keith narrated  “Vera decided to make a son.”

A puff of smoke appeared and a small puppet with white hair in a ponytail stepped out.

“I am Vera, your mother, and I shall call you Juran,” Lance announced dramatically.

Hunk’s lips twitched as he replied, “Hello, mother.”

“With Juran at her side, Vera no longer feared the horrors of the void and the wind in the trees, but all was not well. Malvic had been slowly pulled quintessence from Vera and Juran to return to the universe, which caused their eyes to weaken.”

The Malvic puppet waved his arms over the Vera and Juran puppet as Lance and Hunk cried, “I can’t see! I can’t see!”

“I can help!” Coran declared as the Alma puppet shooed off the Malvic and Winak puppets.

“And in the span of three days, Alma poured her quintessence into the universe and made her beloved Alteans the sun,”—Hunk pushed a button and a sun appeared in the background—“the moons, and the stars so that they may always have light.” Pressing a different button, parts of the sky darkened to reveal two moons and spatterings of stars.

“Now, my children,” Coran started, only to be cut off as the Winak puppet abruptly caught fire.

They all stared as the puppet crumpled and fire spread to the stage and the nearby Malvic puppet.

“Huh,” Pidge said, spurring Coran into action as he dived for the fire extinguisher beside the stage. He liberally coated the puppets and stage in a spray of foam.

Hunk scratched his head, commenting, “I guess there was a slight wiring problem.”

“It was a rush job,” acknowledged Shiro.

Allura just shook her head ruefully. “Perhaps Winak decided to have a spot of fun at our expense.”

“On a mostly unrelated point,” Lance interjected, “did anyone else notice that Alma looked a lot like Princess Allura?”

“Oh, well, there are rumors that the Altean royal family descended directly from Alma, but that’s just an old story,” Allura admitted.

Lance shrugged, remarking playfully, “I’m not Altean, but you’re divine enough to rule me anyway.”

“Lance,” Shiro sighed.

Meanwhile, Coran set the fire extinguisher aside, shed his dunsal, and  asked, “So, who’s up for a game of Alcor Ball?”

~

Alcor Ball, Pidge found, was basically hot potato, if hot potato was played in near blackness while wearing all black tarsins with a ball that glowed so bright it almost hurt to look at head on. Which of course meant that just about everyone aimed the ball up. Where Pidge didn’t have a chance in hell of reaching it.

After the fourth time someone hit the ball away when Pidge had been going for it, she decided enough was enough.

“Quiznak this,” Pidge muttered, grabbing onto Hunk’s arm and climbing her way onto his shoulders.

Lance spluttered, yelling, “That’s totally cheating, Pidge!”

“There’s nothing in the rules against it,” Pidge shot back, “so shut your quiznak and try to take your beating with dignity.”

Lance scowled, then turned hopefully towards Coran, who was too engrossed in examining the ball to meet his gaze. Lance swung around to give Shiro his best puppy dog eyes.

“No,” Shiro stated.

“Princess—”

Allura shut him down with an eloquently arched brow.

Lance turned to Keith.

“Not on your life, Lance.”

Pidge snickered.

They played another three rounds before declaring Pidge and Hunk the Alcor Ball champs and calling it a night.

~

The next evening as the sun sank below the horizon, the team trooped back down to the canyon, this time loaded down with boxes of small diamond shaped lanterns for Renaksa.

Pidge and Hunk picked up renakata and renakba from the drinks and snack stalls while the rest of the team set up the lanterns by the bonfire.

“They’re meant to be reuseable,” Coran explained to Lance, showing him the small motor and computing chip on the bottom as well as the translucent antennae on the top. “They’ll float around for about six hours before returning to the homing pad, which we left outside the castle.”

Lance inspected the lantern in his hands, asking, “And it doesn’t, I don’t know, run into birds or tree or anything?”

“There are some rudimentary sensors and evasion protocols to minimize such accidents. They can still occur, however, which is why they transmit a signal to the homing pad if they’re damaged.”

“Cool beans,” Lance declared. “Now how do I turn on the floating?”

“Button on the underside,” Coran replied, pointing.

Shiro glanced off to the side of the bonfire, staring into the forest thoughtfully. “Wasn’t there a small lake near here?”

Coran grinned at Shiro, answering, “About three minutes on foot. I figured we would release them here so they would have time to clear the trees then walk to the lake to watch them.”

They released the lanterns in waves of four waves of twelve or fifteen, before jogging to the lakeshore. The light of the lanterns reflected off the lake’s surface, dancing and swaying in the breeze like fireflies among the glittering stars.

Keith found a sturdy tree and climbed until he found a good vantage spot to sit and watch.

“Can I get a hand up?” Lance asked below.

Keith glanced down and after a moment offered a hand. He pulled Lance up so he could climb on an adjacent branch.

“Nice view, huh,” Lance commented quietly, watching the dancing lanterns and Shiro, Hunk, Pidge, Coran, and Allura in equal measure, content.

Keith glanced at Lance. “Yeah, it is.”

They sat in silence, watching the lights. After a while, Keith turned to watching the little edible stars in the renakata change colors and Lance started sucking on pieces of renakba.

Lance nearly fell out of the tree when a piece started popping around in his mouth, saved partially by his own reflexes and partially by Keith grabbing the front of his dunsal.

“Goddamn it, Hunk,” Lance muttered. He leaned down and called out to Hunk, “You could’ve warned a guy!”

Pidge called back, “Where’s the fun in that?”

“Such a gremlin,” Lance complained, to Keith’s amusement.

~

“The goal of Renakktylk is to for your and the players on your team to make constellations by placing painted body parts on non-painted body parts of your teammates,” Coran explained.

Shiro stared at Coran. “In the dark.”

“In the dark,” Coran confirmed. “Usually Renakktylk is played with two teams of five, but two teams of three will work just fine,” assured Coran as he passed around the jar of luminescent paint.

“I call spinner,” Pidge said, snatching the metal disc from Allura’s hands as Allura accepted the paint jar.

“This sounds like Twister,” Hunk said. “Like, really, _really_ evil Twister. And regular Twister and I are not friends.”

Lance linked arms with Hunk immediately. “Hey, Allura, come join the team that is not only hottest but also most likely to win?”

Allura rolled her arms, linking arms with Coran and grabbing Shiro’s wrist. “We shall see about that.”

“Oh c’mon,” Lance muttered as Keith stiffly moved to stand on Hunk’s other side.

Keith grumbled back, “It’s not like I _want_ to be on the same team as you, especially with the two people who’ve actually played this before on the other team with Shiro.”

“All right people,” Pidge called, “Let’s get this show on the roll.”

“Keith, left ankle to Lance’s head. Lance, left elbow to Hunk’s right…” Pidge trailed off, squinting at the Altean word on the spinner screen. “I’m pretty sure that’s foot. So left elbow on right foot. Hunk, let’s see, right ankle on--oh god, you poor soul. Right ankle on Keith’s head. Normally you only get sixty ticks, but I’m going to give you seventy because that is just _cruel_. Especially for your guys’ first time.”

Lance flailed, complaining, “The hell kind of demonic spinner are we using here!”

Pidge cackled.

“Less talking,” Keith said, groping in the dark for a moment before he found Lance’s shoulder and pushed Lance into a crouch, “more moving.” He lifted his leg and tried set his ankle on Lance’s head. Keith missed twice before he finally got his ankle on Lance’s head and matched Lance’s crouch.

“Guys, I can’t see anything, and I am not lifting up my leg because there is a very real chance I’m either going to hit someone in the face or end up on the ground.”

Keith put his hand on his head. “Think you can gently aim for that?”

“Oh, yeah, give me a minute,” Hunk said. He wobbled a bit as he brought up leg, gently setting it beside Keith’s hand.

Lance hurried to stretch his arm out and rest his elbow on Hunk’s foot just before Pidge called time.

“I am never playing this quiznaking nonsense again,” Lance vowed, valiantly ignoring how close his head probably was to Hunk’s rear and Keith’s face.

Keith snorted. “Agreed.”

The calls for Allura, Shiro, and Coran’s team were much more reasonable while the calls for Hunk, Keith, and Lance’s team seemed to only get worse.

They called it quits after one game, citing aching muscles from impromptu yoga and cursed spinner.

~

Ineasa kicked off with seeing who could eat the most ineakans in a hundred ticks. Keith put up a decent fight, but couldn’t keep up with Hunk and Allura. And, really, no one was surprised when Allura won.

Coran was definitely on a mission to photobomb every picture Shiro tried to take though. Which wasn’t frustrating so much as profoundly confusing because no one else was getting Coran photobombs.

Lance was actually putting in effort to get one too.

~

The games for Ineasa came next. Keith hadn’t been too fond of Alcor Ball. When Coran had called Inea Ball a two-ball version of Alcor Ball, Keith had almost decided to sit out. But after a couple rounds, Keith actually kind of liked it. Two balls did make the game more difficult, but the real challenge was actually seeing the ball.

Back on Altea, Inea had apparently only reflected a small fraction of light, and the moon’s namesake was appropriately dim if the number of times someone besides Keith had missed it was any indication.

Keith could see it well enough. Even if the Dinea ball was somewhat brighter.

(And, no, Lance, it wasn’t because he was part cat. Galra weren’t even inherently cat-like. Have you seen Zarkon?)

~

Dineasa had a few surprised in store, especially when it came to dineakans. They sounded similiar to ineakans, looked almost identical to ineakans, but sure as hell didn’t taste like ineakans Lance was quick to discover. Now, Lance liked spicy food. Dinaekans were not spicy so much as hot enough to char off his taste buds and burn a hole in his tongue.

He was slowly coming to understand how Alteans tolerated food goo when presented with different options.

It also probably said something about Pidge that she could scarf down four like it was nothing, but since it wasn’t exactly anything _new_ , Lance wasn’t thinking too hard about it.

~

Alquissa started with Coran bringing out small wood poles wrapped on the end with rope soaked in akdov and a blowtorch.

“No,” Allura said firmly, turning Coran around and pushing him back towards his rooms.

Lance, Keith, and Pidge booed while Hunk and Shiro sighed in relief.

~

The past four days had a flurry of food and games, but Alquissa was a little different.

Coran, Hunk, and Pidge rigged up a projector and used the slightly burnt stage as a screen to show videos found in the depths of the Castle’s and Coran’s data files. There were three different child productions of the Bestowment of Light, each with a different Wimbleton-Smythe child; a full length traditional version of the Bestowment; Elto’s cooking videos, both the personal Alsanum ones and a handful from his cooking show; and a few recordings of Allura enjoying Alsanum with her parents and the Wimble-Smythe clan.

The food stalls still had some leftovers from the previous days, but the majority of the food came from foil packets plucked from just inside the alquissanum or long robust skewers planted around the outside of the bonfire.  

As the horizon started to lighten, Coran announced “Time for the cleansing of regrets!” He distributed scavenged leaves, sticks of charcoal salvaged from the alquinsanum, and flat stones to write against.

Pidge raised an eyebrow at the pile of leaves Coran kept for himself, but Lance and Hunk frantically mimed at her not to say anything, so she shrugged it off and focused on her own handful of leaves. She tore through three leaves before figuring out the correct combination of pressure on the leaf to hold it still and force applied with the charcoal stick.

As far as regrets went, Pidge didn’t have many. She regretted leaving her mom behind in her search for the rest of her family, and not being able to help more people than she had, and missing the release of the new Pokemon game. But compared to Coran and Allura, who seemed to have a tree’s worth each, well.

Pidge wasn’t the kind of person to regret easily.

~

The next afternoon, Coran smiled as he flipped through photographs and snatches of video from Alsanum. He chuckled over the childish shenanigans, overwhelming glad that these Earth children (and Allura, all but grown with a heavy title on her shoulders) could take a day away from war. He flipped past a snap of Pidge and Lance and Keith and Shiro fencing with cooking skewers, and nearly dropped the tablet when he glanced at the new picture.

Wearing one of Coran’s old dunsal, Elto grinned up at him from the screen, arms draped over the shoulders of Taren, holding his littlest son Diren, and Keena, clasping hands with her wife Liana who held their youngest, Kein. Pimara stood next to Taren’s wife Disura, niece Tasura on her hip and her daughter Somara mid-wave on her shoulders. Her spouse Soun stood next to her, hands on the shoulders of Keena’s son Liran and Taren’s daughter Dito. Across the bottom was a single line of text:

_Wish you were here. - Love, everyone_

Coran sniffed, smiling wistfully as he murmured, “I knew going into the pod that I wouldn’t come out in the same universe, and this one is much darker than the one I left. But I managed to find some strays to add to our family. You guys would’ve loved the newest additions.”

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary (because I made up a lot of words and food):  
> -Akdov: a distilled Altea liquor.  
> -Alcor: Altea's sun.  
> -Alcor Ball: A Hot-Potato-esque came played in the dakr with a very bright ball.  
> -Alcorsa: The first day of Alsanum. Meant to celebrate Alma's creation of the Altean sun.  
> -Alcorkan: Tiny cake balls meant to resemble miniature suns. Usually topped with sweet sauces and nuts, but can also be savory.  
> -Alquissa: The fifth day of Alsanum. Meant to celebrate Alma gifting the Alteans fire.  
> -Alquissanum: A bonfire built and lit on the first day of Alsanum. It burns for the entire festival, and is used on the last day to roast food and burn regrets written on leaf litter.  
> -Alsanum: A five day light festival in honor of the Altean goddess Alma.  
> -Baethunal: Light crowns worn during Alsanum.  
> -Buuta: a slightly spicy chocolate-like substance.  
> -Dinea: The brighter of Altea's moons.  
> -Dineakans: Spicy buns filled with meat and/or vegetables. They resemble moons in shape and color.  
> -Dineasa: The fourth day of the Alsanum. Meant to celebrate Dinea  
> -Dunsal: Tradition Altean robes worn during Alsanum. Adults often wear them over tarsin. Children's dunsals are brightly colored and warmer than adult dunsals.  
> -Inea: The fainter of Altea's moons.  
> -Inea Ball: A game similar to Alcor Ball, except played with two dimmer balls.  
> -Ineakans: Subtly sweet buns resembling moons in shape and color.  
> -Ineasa: The third day of the Alsanum.  
> -Renakata: A tea mixed with daach (a non-dairy milk-like substance) and other flavorings, as well as small chewy balls made from starch that change colors as it reacts with the tea-daach mixture.  
> -Renakba: Altean rock candy. Traditionally meant to be sucked on like hard caramels, but can be made to mimic Pop Rocks.  
> -Renaksa: The second day of Alsanum. Meant to celebrate the stars.  
> -Renakktylk: An Altean game traditionally played on Renaksa. The objective is to make living constellations.  
> -Tarsin: underclothes consisting of loose shirt and pants worn under adult dunsals. Usually black.
> 
> I think that's all of them, but don't be afraid to poke me if I forgot something. (Also feel free to come poke me on Tumblr to discuss more of Altean mythology and Coran's family.)


End file.
